Learning Darkness
by lizardbeggar
Summary: AU. How things would have gone if Sirius had wanted to please his parents and asked the hat to place him in Slytherin. Rated T for safety.
1. Of choices and Jerusalem

Disclaimer: All names, characters, places etcetera belong to JK Rowling. If they did belong to me, I'd be somewhere in Ireland, drinking whiskey and learning Irish dancing from Michael Flatley.

Chapter 1: Of choices and Jerusalem

"SLYTHERIN!", the hat shouted, prompting a loud round of applause from the respective table. The boy under the hat blinked. So that was it, then. All done with, all the worrying, all the uneasy smiling, all the hoping he'd be placed somewhere else... He marched confidently towards the Slytherin table, an appropriately frosty smile on his face, as he tried to convince himself he had made the right choice. It was, after all, what his parents had wanted for him, what he himself had been raised to desire with all his being. And he had, hadn't he? Enough to convince the hat to put him there, anyway, and that had to mean something, right? _"Talented, brave, impulsive and ooh, very loyal indeed… Are you sure Slytherin is what you want ? You would make one great Gryffindor…_" the hat had said...

It didn't matter anyway, Sirius Black reassured himself, under the arrogant demeanour his mother had taught him well. Not anymore. He was exactly were he was supposed to be, away from mudbloods and blood traitors, away from any sort of negative influence whatsoever. He was with friends. Well, allies, anyway. Friends were not acceptable, they were only for sentimental weaklings. 'Blacks hunt alone', his father always said, and he was going to prove he was a real Black. And yet… He winced imperceptibly as one Lupin, Remus was placed in Gryffindor. They'd exchanged a few words on the train and he'd seemed quite nice… No matter, a voice sounding very much like his mother's echoed in his head. He was a Slytherin now, which meant no inappropriate associations. And even though he had to admit, at least to himself, he wasn't quite where he would have liked, he would stick to it, because he was a Black and Blacks were supposed to be Slytherin through and through - cold, cunning, always on their toes.

"…and thus, according to Hieronymus Barkleton, the first wizard appeared. However, according to most other historians, this theory is not only unverifiable, but also nonsensical, as…" Sirius was bored out of his mind. History of Magic, he decided, was definitely not the best subject they could have chosen to start Monday's class period with. His thoughts had already begun to drift away, and he'd only been exposed to Professor Binn's drowsy voice for five minutes. His classmates obviously felt the same way, as most of them were fast asleep, their heads resting on the pieces of parchment they were supposed to be taking notes on. Severus Snape was the only one still paying attention and avidly writing down information about the beginnings of wizarding history. Sirius figured Snape would be only too glad to hand out his notes to the Black family's heir, and so he gave up trying to pay attention, allowing his mind to wander.

Avery, Black, Dearborn, Snape, Yaxely. The Slytherin first-years. He still felt strangely out of place with the others, despite the congratulatory letters he was sure to receive from his relatives soon. He had an unnerving feeling they wouldn't help him shake off the vague distaste he sensed when he thought of his colleagues. He'd met Avery and Yaxely the previous year - their proud ancestry could almost rival his own, and so they were considered to be appropriate companions to the heir of the house of Black. They had both seemed to him to be rather unimaginative, shallow-minded twits, obsessed with blood purity, but then again, that sort of thing was to be expected with their sort of upbringing, and Sirius had to remind himself that not everybody had an uncle Alphard. Maybe they'd grow out of it, although the chances were very slim indeed, and Sirius wasn't feeling very optimistic at that particular moment. He didn't know the other two at all, but he'd done his best to try and figure them out the previous night. Dearborn struck him as a very withdrawn boy, never participating in a discussion, unless asked a direct question, and definitely not someone to try and start a friendship with (_alliance!_, Sirius had to correct himself for the hundredth or so time). And Snape was just some oily, long-nosed idiot that Sirius would never be able to befriend - not only had he never heard of the boy's surname, which meant his parents would firmly object to any form of association between them, but Sirius also felt some sort of natural revulsion towards him. Something told him it was not going to be an amusing seven years.

"You'd better wake up". A slightly sardonic voice rang somewhere above his right ear, just loud enough to wake him up without drawing too much attention to itself. Sirius opened his eyes to an almost empty classroom and a pair of black eyes peering into his own.

"I wasn't sleeping!" he promptly lied. Long-Oily-Nose had no business criticising his betters.

"Which would probably explain both the absence of notes on your rather damp parchment, and your obnoxious snoring during half the class." Snape's ironies didn't help keeping Sirius' temper in check, and he was just thinking about what hex he was going to use on the self-righteous bastard - because Sirius Black most certainly did not snore, or drool on his parchment - when Snape's decidedly annoying voice rang again in the now empty classroom, informing him that, unless they wanted to get detention from McGonagall, they had to find a way to go all the way to the fourth floor in five minutes.

And this, naturally, they didn't do. Instead, already ten minutes late, they both found themselves staring belatedly at a suit of armour Severus was quite sure they'd already encountered at least three times before. _"And didn't it just _have_ to be the only one in the whole castle that passionately sings 'Jerusalem' every time anybody tries to talk to it"_, Severus thought, exasperated.

"Look, you useless piece of delusional metal" Black shouted at it, seemingly not very pleased with the thing himself, "either you tell us the way to the Transfiguration classroom, or we're going to do some very horrible things to you!"

"Walk upon England's mountains green..."

"Oh, that was brilliant, Black, what can I say" Severus said, with his usual malignant calm. "Yes, magnificent, threaten it with all the _horrible_ things you're going to do to it."

"Shut up. Look," the other said, pointing his wand menacingly to the offensive piece of armour, "I am very capable of taking you apart, piece by little piece!"

"And was Jerusaleeem, buildeeeeeeed hereeee…" the suit of armour proudly replied.

"Look, the thing doesn't even know basic grammar..." Trying to be the voice of reason obviously wasn't going to work, as Black was nowhere near giving up.

"We may look like young, innocent first-years", he stated, a ferocious tone trying to seep into his eleven-year old voice, "but that does not mean that we can't inflict some grievous harm to you!"

"Bring me my speaaaars, oh clouds unfoooooold…"

"I don't think it's going to cooperate, Black", Severus said, and it was probably the greatest understatement he'd ever uttered in his life.

"Oh really? And what does your undoubtedly wiser mind suggest we do?" Black could apparently be very annoying when he wanted to.

"Well, I don't know, find someone else to guide us, maybe?" Severus asked, with just as much contempt in his voice. He was not about to be outdone by a Black.

"Nor shall my swooooooooooord sleeeeeep in my haaaaaaaaaaaand…"

"Or at the very least," Snape continued, unabated, "someone with more ear for music." Black seemed slightly stunned by the suit's unprecedented attempt at reaching those high notes, and so he finally nodded, although Severus couldn't figure out if he was doing it out of a genuine appreciation of his idea, or simply out of a sudden, unstoppable urge to get away from that blasted suit of armour. And right then, Severus couldn't care less, either way. They both fled, desperately trying to escape the rusty piece of metal, before it had a chance to reach the 'Till we have built Jerusalem on England's green and pleasant land' part.

"Bloody crusaders and their bloody bigoted suits of armour, with their bloody need to sing about bloody swords..."

"Black, for the last time, shut UP! You're not helping."

"Well, I don't see you coming up with some brilliantly helpful cunning plan! We're already lost, might as well swear a bit about those bloody useless bastards who decided to put a bloody school in a bloody huge bloody castle - what's the point, honestly, they only ever use twenty bloody rooms anyway, and why the bloody hell did they have to have bloody suits of armour, and the bloody..."

"Black?"

"Yes?"

"I think I know how to get to the Transfiguration classroom. In fact, I think we're standing right in front of the door."

"Oh, _do_ you, now? Do you really?" After twenty minutes of wandering through dark, pointlessly long hallways, Sirius had had enough with the little self-righteous greasy bastard standing in front of him, massive nose high in the air. Oh, he was going to show him! "And how exactly have you reached this undoubtedly brilliant conclusion? Was it a sudden waft of transfiguration, oozing from behind that door straight into your overly eager nostrils? Was it the Angel of Grease, showing himself to you in all his greasy glory to reveal the greasy path upon which you must walk? Or was it the God of Gits himself, whispering to you from beyond that door, in the sacred language of gittish, which only true gits may understand, to walk the gittish path and join him in all his undying gittish glory?"_ Ha! That ought to do it._

"No", Snape answered, raising an eyebrow. "Actually, it was the huge sign on the door." He stepped aside, to reveal three large notices on the wooden door. "You know, the one that says 'Transfiguration classroom', right below the one with 'Minerva McGonagall' on it, but above the 'One house point shall be deducted for every minute of lateness' one?"

"Ah. That one. Hmm" _Bloody suits of armour, bloody castles, bloody sarcastic know-it-alls, bloody hell, I am never going to bloody live this down_ "Indeed. Well spotted."

"Yes. I thought so myself."

"See, I would've gone for one of the, er, other three, er... options."

"Yes, I'm sure you would have. Shall we?" he added, in his usual silky voice, before Sirius had a chance to reply. "We've already lost ten points just thanks to your generous...option... offering."

Sirius spent most of the rest of day desperately trying to avoid Snape, his fellow Slyherins, who had for some reason decided it was his fault they had lost forty-eight points in the first day of school, Snape, Professor McGonagall, who had spent the entire class period frowning at him, despite his matches-to-needles transfiguration skills, Snape, James Potter, who had inexplicably tried to hex him twice already, and, not least of all, Snape. This, coupled with his new-found hatred for suits of armour of all shapes and sizes, meant that when he finally retreated to his dorm, he was exhausted from the constant sudden flinging himself behind tapestries, covered in cobwebs from the very same activity and starving (at lunchtime, he'd just grabbed the first thing he could from the table and fled; as it turned out, it happened to be a small recipient containing cockroach clusters. At dinnertime, he hadn't even tried.). He had, however, found a secret passage leading close to the Transfiguration room behind one of the tapestries, so he was quite pleased with himself when he flung himself on his bed, not bothering to change into those horrible pyjamas aunt Druella had sent him for Christmas, they were green with moving silvery snakes on the sleeves, terrible taste that woman has, just terrible...

_Author's note: Constructive criticism is much appreciated!_


	2. Of mirrors and berries

Chapter 2: Of mirrors and berries

Hogwarts, Sirius had decided by the time Thursday arrived, was either boring, annoying, or a combination of both. Between Potions, Snape, and having to partner up in Potions with Snape, it had definitely not been a very good week. However, when Sirius opened his eyes on Thursday morning, he couldn't help but smile. The birds were singing, the trees were swaying, the strange hairless thing Snape kept in a jar on the desk suddenly seemed to have a sunny and cheerful personality. For today was the day they were finally going to have their first Defence Against the Dark Arts class, which Sirius had been looking forward to ever since his mother had decided it was the one subject he was not going to receive any instruction in before attending Hogwarts. Apart from a few hexes he had secretly learnt by himself, he knew next to nothing about the subject, which meant it held great promise of actually being interesting. Sirius leapt out of bed, proud to be the first to wake up for once, and apprehensively tip-toed towards the bathroom.

But for all his best attempts at stealth, he couldn't avoid his greatest fear of the moment: waking up his inanimate unrequited admirer.

"Good morrow to thee, gorgeous!"

God, didn't that mirror ever sleep?

"Aren't you an early bird today! I went to sleep early last night, just so I could have the honour of reflecting your superbness this morning!" the mirror added, seemingly reading his mind.

"Er, okay. Thanks, but you really shouldn't have bothered..."

"Oh, but it's no bother, my pulchritudinous child! Your angelic shape more than makes up for any inconvenience!"

Why did mirrors have a better vocabulary than him?

"Yes, um, thanks. I'm going to take a shower now."

"Good, good! Keep that beauteous skin of yours healthy!"

"Yes, so if you don't mind not looking at me for a while..."

"Oh, it's always the same, isn't it? The charming ones are always mean, wouldn't give the time of day to a humble piece of glass such as myself, oh, the solitude, oh, the forlornness, but do they care? Does it matter one whit to them that they're spreading grief and misery wherever they go? "

Leaving one broken-hearted mirror in the bathroom, Sirius headed to the dining hall. He was feeling a lot more comfortable sitting at his house table, as the Slytherins' opinion of him had changed quite a bit since that ghastly first day. Except for Snape's, obviously, but Sirius had, after all, blown up his favourite cauldron. He had, on the other hand, also managed to win back most of the points McGonagall had taken away on Monday, thanks to his mother's compulsively teaching him magic since he was eight. It wouldn't help him much longer, but for now at least, he was glad not to have to think about school on top of all the other things.

"Hey, sunshine!"

Things like Potter, for example.

"I was just wondering, did they call you Sirius because you're serious all the time? Or were there already too many Bastirds, Villens and Baybie-Eatirrs in your family?"

"A pun? Honestly? Is that the best you can do? My idiotic brother managed better on his fifth birthday!" Although he had to admit, Bastird Black did have a nice ring to it.

"Strange, him being related to you and all."

"See, that's better, not much, but still..."

At which point, Potter pulled out his wand, which Sirius had the feeling he had been meaning to do all along.

"Now, that's more like you! Mindless violence is just the ticket! Just as long as you don't try to seem intelligent, no one should have any problem with you." He was a bit terrified, though, and as such, was immensely relieved when he heard someone say from behind him:

"Potter, go back to your table."

He turned, and there was his saviour, Professor what's-his-name. He taught...Well, he definitely taught something, he had been introduced as a teacher at the feast.

"You both have class with me in fifteen minutes, don't you?" the Professor helpfully provided. Aha! He was the new Defence teacher, Professor what's-his-name! Positively glowing with self pride, Sirius nodded in response to the question.

"Well, you'd better hurry up then, I don't tolerate lateness quite as well as some other teachers around here."

Did he mean McGonagall? Was he insane? Didn't his name include some sort of foodstuff? With all these questions in mind, and not at all eager to find out the answer to the first two, he gulped down his omelettes and hurried to the third floor.

"My name is Professor Augustus Mulberry. Before we begin, I would like to make you all aware of one of Hogwarts' lesser known traditions, the Duelling Club. Lesser known, but by no means less important, or less ancient: according to legend, the Club's beginnings date back to the times of the Founders, and it is said to have started as an altercation between Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. Winning the Duelling Club Tournament is one of the greatest accomplishments a Hogwarts student can aspire to. And while the Club doesn't accept first and second year students as members, you are all more than welcome to attend the official duels, an opportunity which I urge you all to take advantage of, as it will provide you with a better understanding of the way hexes, curses and counter-spells work and should be used.

Now, let's get started, shall we? The first half of this semester will be dedicated to an introduction to a few Dark Creatures, which you will study in more detail in your later years. We'll do vampires, werewolves, giants - that sort of thing. The rest of the year, you will be learning some relatively simple duelling spells, as well as their respective counter-spells.

Today, we will begin with an overview of Dark Creatures in general, and I expect you all to take notes."

Sirius wasn't sure he liked this Professor Raspberry very much, even if he had delivered him from Potter. For starters, he didn't quite like his mention of giants as Dark Creatures, or his constant insistence on everyone taking notes. Sirius hated taking notes. He also didn't like the Professor's inquisitive black eyes, his pointy face and the grimace of general discontentment he always seemed to wear on the aforementioned pointy face. Still, he had said something very interesting, certainly interesting enough to capture all of Sirius' attention for the rest of the day. Since he wasn't exactly an expert at multitasking, this meant that another one of Snape's cauldrons was blown to bits (why did that walrus insist on the pair of them working together?), one Hufflepuff girl had to be taken to the hospital wing with a tomato-shaped nose and one of Professor Beery's favourite Venomous Tentaculas was gravely injured. However, by the end of the day, Sirius was triumphantly in possession of a Plan. He therefore headed towards the dorms, waiting for the key element of this Plan to come in, hoping it was the sort of key element that went to bed early.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure this conversation stays private" Black answered, continuing to place silencing charms and locking the doors.

"Silencing charms are ridiculously easy to breach, they're not at all safe, you know" Severus observed casually, trying not to panic about being sequestered in the dorm by the human equivalent of a hyperactive baby elephant.

"Well, until you come up with some better charm, I'm afraid this is the best I can do."

"Fair enough. Is there anything in particular..."

"Patience!" he cried. He then proceeded to sit on the bed next to Severus' and shuffled about for a few moments. "All right, you were saying?"

"Thank you." What on earth could the idiot possibly want with him? He then realised there was a very easy way to find out. "What on earth do you want with me, idiot?"

"I don't like you. Oh, for god's sake, stop raising your eyebrows at me, it doesn't make you look pulchritudinous at all!"

Why did Black have a better vocabulary than him?

"As I was saying, I don't like you all that much, which is something you may indeed have noticed. But I do need your help. And don't ask me why you should help me, it's dreadfully clichéd."

Severus closed his mouth.

"Remember the Duelling Club Professor Gooseberry mentioned? Well, I've been doing some research. The Duelling Club did indeed begin as an altercation between Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. Specifically, its first, er, meeting began with Ravenclaw hitting Slytherin over the head with a frying pan on the aftermath of something called 'the second cupboard incident', - no idea what that means - and ended with one small bump on Slytherin's head, one even smaller bruise on Ravenclaw's chin and the entire kitchen having to be rebuilt. That's why the house-elf system was put in place, so that no one would ever need to go to the kitchen again. They figured it was safer that way.

The first Duelling club trophy was awarded one year later to a Hufflepuff student by the rather unfortunate name of Zdzislaw Odeon Mimi Smith. His opponent in the final was apparently buried somewhere on the grounds. At some point during the sixteenth century, they decided, for some reason, that students killing each other was unacceptable, and therefore the Club was closed and duelling was banned anywhere on Hogwarts grounds. However, in the nineteenth century, due to the large numbers of boys illegally duelling over teary-eyed, faint-hearted damsels, and the even larger numbers of people bursting into spontaneous recitations of Byron, the Duelling Club was reopened as a way for students to spend their energy in a less disturbing manner. There was, however, a small amendment to the Duelling Club's regulations; namely, the prohibition of all spells liable to cause serious injury or death.

And now here's the real bugger: about forty years ago, some first-year twat decided to join the Duelling Club, then got incredibly nervous on the day of his first official duel. So nervous, in fact, that he kindly spared his opponent the bother of trying to fight him, by the very effective means of grabbing his wand the wrong way and inadvertently casting a shrinking spell on himself. Incidentally, it was a very good shrinking spell. They never found him, as a matter of fact, and is presumed, er, squashed. And that is why we now have that ridiculous provision that only third year and above are allowed to enter the Club. Because of one tiny, insignificant little prick, I am not allowed to go and legally hex my cousin Bellatrix into oblivion!"

Severus was thoroughly confused. "What does your cousin Bellatrix have to do with anything?"

"Never mind, the point is - I want in!"

"Aha. And you had to give me the complete history of the Duelling Club just to tell me that?"

"Mm, no, not really. The author had all that written already and needed a place to insert it."

"Ah, yes, of course." Severus nodded. "My initial point remains, though: what on earth do you want with me, idiot?"

"Stop calling me an idiot!" Black jumped to his feet and paced around the room for a while. He then sat back on the bed, a couple of inches to the right of where he had been stood before. "Look, the thing is, with the possible exception of Lily Evans, you're the best potion maker in our year." He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, as if giving him a compliment was causing him some manner of intense physical pain. "And since I can't go and ask her for help, I'm afraid I'm stuck with you. And I do believe you might actually be better than her, hell, I can't imagine her finishing a perfect potion after the cauldron had exploded! So, the thing is..." He paused, which Severus took as a very bad omen. "I need you" - he took a deep breath - "tomakemesomepolyjuicepotion so I can jointheclubasathirdyear."

"Pardon?"

"I need you to make me some Polyjuice Potion, so I can join the Duelling Club as a third year. Or older, older suits me just fine." Black repeated, articulating every sound very clearly.

Severus considered his words for a while. "Nope, still doesn't make much sense."

"You don't really want me to repeat all that, do you?"

"Not particularly, no." He had a feeling it still wouldn't make sense. "All right, let's take it slowly, shall we? You want me, Severus Snape, whom you hate and who, in turn, despises you more than words can begin to describe, to brew you an immensely difficult potion, containing some extremely rare ingredients and which takes a month to make (that's two weeks longer than the deadline for signing up for the club, by the way), so that you can steal a bit of, say, Lucius Malfoy, turn yourself into him and go join the Duelling Club under his name and appearance, to which, naturally, he won't object one bit and which no one will find at all suspicious?"

"In a nutshell, yes."

"You're insane."

"It has been suggested before." He paused, grinning. Grinning, for goodness' sake! "Okay, look. I can easily provide the ingredients, I just have to write to my brother and he'll send me some from my father's personal supply. The student in question will not be Lucius Malfoy - I'm not that insane - I was thinking more along the lines of Rowan Wilkes, but I might reconsider. I will, of course, tell him about the whole thing, and, if he has no objections - which he shouldn't, really, why should he object to the opportunity of fame and glory without having to lift a finger for it - he will go and add his name to the list before the two weeks deadline. And then you can give me the potion, he'll give me one of his hairs, I'll wash it thoroughly, add it to your potion and turn myself into him on time for my first duel! It's perfectly simple!"

"Tell me something, Black. Is it nice up there, on your planet? Dancing unicorns, pink squirrels flying off into sunsets, needles jumping out of haystacks, singing 'Here I am, here I am, please, please, find me', that sort of thing?"

"Oh, come on, there's nothing wrong with my plan!"

"Yes, that's quite true. Mainly because there isn't one, just plain drivel and bollocks!"

Black stared at him blankly.

"Drivelling bollocks! Bollocking drivel!"

Black continued with the blank staring.

"Poppycock! Gobbledygook! Hogwash! ... Fine, poppycocking gobbledies gooking hogwashes!"

Still nothing.

"You really want it spelt out for you, don't you? Do you really think even Wilkes would be stupid enough to stake his reputation on whatever meagre duelling skills you might think you possess?"

"I don't know...yes?"

"And even if he does consent to this half-baked scheme of yours, what happens if you get hurt and have to spend the night in the hospital wing?"

"I don't know..."

"What if one of your duels lasts more than the Polyjuice?"

"I don't know..."

"What happens in our third year, when you'll be legally allowed to enter the Club as yourself? Don't you think someone will be a bit surprised at all your experience? And if you're successful, which is, admittedly, very unlikely, do you really think Wilkes will let you off just like that? And..."

"I don't know! What does it matter, anyway, we'll deal with those things when and if they come..."

"Dear me, you seem to be under a bit of a misapprehension here. 'We' will deal with nothing. You, on the other hand, are free to deal with whatever you may see fit, because, you see, there was one slight detail of the original problem you forgot to clarify."

"The cliché?"

"Precisely." _Oh, God, he's grinning again. Why is he grinning?_

"Oh, you will help me. You will. See, if you don't, I'll be following you everywhere you go, and every hour of every day, every second of every hour etcetera, you'll have me, sitting right next to your oversensitive bat-like ears, _talking_ to you."

"All right, and when do you think you'll be able to provide me with the ingredients? I think I'll be able to borrow a few from the students' cupboards, to get a head start."

_Author's note: Mad, pan-wielding Rowena Ravenclaw courtesy of the wonderful and incredibly talented Rufus T. Firefly. And while I am aware I may well lose my readers by doing this, I urge you all to go read her hilarious stories, 'Founding Hogwarts' and 'Losing Hogwarts', especially if you're interested in finding out more about those mysterious cupboard incidents._

_Thanks to my reviewers, for pointing out the punctuation mistake as well as for, well, reviewing. _


	3. Of chocolate and Snorkacks

Chapter 3: Of chocolate and Snorkacks

Rowan Wilkes was a rather tall fellow, of the lanky variety. He also looked very intelligent. He had long, clever, black hair, a straight, smart nose, thin, knowledgeable lips and a pair of brilliant blue eyes, sparkling with inventiveness, perspicacity and wit.

"Right, so you want me to go and put your name on the list? Sure thing, mate, but why don't you just go and do it yourself?"

Unfortunately, looks weren't everything.

"Wilkes, please, do try to focus. We've been at this for three hours."

Sirius was beginning to think that Wilkes probably wasn't the best person for the job. At least Lucius Malfoy would have got the plan sooner. Possibly. Still, Sirius couldn't figure out where he had gone wrong. He'd done everything properly. He'd snuck in the third years' dorm at exactly five o'clock in the morning, Petrified Wilkes and had carried him down to the nearest secret room. All right, so nobody likes being kidnapped first thing in the morning, but Sirius had made up for it with copious offerings of coffee and chocolate.

After Wilkes had stopped screaming, Sirius had done everything according to plan. He'd spent most of Friday rehearsing this, and he knew for sure his speech was perfect. His mother had taken him for a walk through Muggle London once, to show him just how revolute and horrible Muggles were. They had gone to a large store that sold small boxes, with one wall made of glass, so you could watch the tiny people living inside. Kind of like an aquarium, Sirius figured. One of those little people was trying his best to convince other little people to buy toothpaste, and Sirius had found him very persuasive. So, after Wilkes had calmed down a bit, and stuffed his mouth with lots of chocolate, Sirius had plastered a large smile on his face, and asked, in a smooth voice: "Would _you_ like to be rich, famous and have piles of girls at your feet, completely free of charge?" Alright, the rich part might have been a bit of a stretch, but Sirius had a feeling the little man's toothpaste wouldn't make anyone any richer either, so he figured lying was game.

From then on, things had gone from bad to worse. Wilkes seemed to have a very short attention span, which was fortunate in that he obviously didn't remember being kidnapped and wouldn't hold a grudge because of it, but on the other hand, it also meant Sirius had had to repeat his Plan so many times that now, three hours later, he was beginning to wonder if it wouldn't be easier to just learn the Imperius curse. Wilkes' obvious physiological impossibility to grasp the concept of "Polyjuice potion" didn't help much either.

"Look, it's perfectly simple: you go to Flitwick and put your name on the list, and I fight the duels for you."

"But won't anyone notice that you're not me? We don't look much alike, you know. For starters, I look a lot more intelligent than you. Is there any more chocolate?"

Maybe he could kill him, then use Snape's Polyjuice to turn the body into his own, make it look like suicide and then go on living as Rowan Wilkes forever. Sirius was just wondering if Wilkes' mother was nicer that his, when the door suddenly opened and in came the very last person Sirius wanted to see. Right, maybe second last. Well... either way, one of the last.

"Hello, Black. I was just looking for you."

"How the hell did you get here, Snape?"

"Through the door. It has a knob on it, if you turn it, it opens. Why, how did you get here?"

"No, I mean, how did you find this place? It's a secret room."

"No, it's a storage room. I can see how you got confused, secret, storage, many esses in there. Complicated stuff."

A storage room? That did, in fact, explain quite a lot. The broken down furniture and so on. Also, the almost total lack of magic protecting it.

"Oh, hello, Snape! Got any chocolate?"

"Hello, Wilkes, coherent and to the point as ever, I see."

Sirius suddenly realised that, somehow, Snape had managed to change from a greasy bastard to an angel of redemption and hope. He threw himself at his saviour-to-be and grabbed him desperately by the robes.

"Please, please, Snape, I beg of you, help me!" _Oh, God, here comes the eyebrow raising._

"I've been trying to make him understand the Plan for three hours!" He looked at his watch. "Three hours and a half!"

"Not the best choice, is he?"

"No, not really."

"Contemplating killing him, yet? Switching bodies, making it look like suicide and living as him forever?"

"Yes!" How did he know that?

"Bloody hell, that is bad. Hm. All right, then. Hey, Wilkes!"

"Yes?" If Wilkes had, in fact, heard their rather unflattering conversation, he had obviously forgotten it by now.

"What this idiot has been trying to explain to you" - here he snapped his fingers to draw Wilkes' attention back - "is very simple: you go to Flitwick and put your name on the list, and he fights the duels for you."

"I just said that! I did!"

"Oh, and you brew him a Polyjuice potion, to make him look like me! Brilliant! Sure, no problem, I'll get to it!"

Sirius stared.

"You could've just said that from the start, you know." Wilkes added as an afterthought, "Honestly, Black, you need to be clearer if you want people to understand you."

And with that, he happily walked out the door, humming to himself - probably about something to do with chocolate, Sirius reckoned - completely oblivious to the spectacular levels of hate being directed at him that very moment.

Wilkes had gone. There was a long moment of silence.

"Snape?"

"Yes?"

"I hate you."

"Ah. Good."

There was another pause.

"Was there anything in particular you wanted to discuss with me? Or are you just here to annoy the living daylights out of me, like you were ordered by the evil overlord whose cauldron you crawled out of?"

"Ha, ha. If your sense of humour got any worse, I'd assume the writer had simply fell into a well and drowned."

"Nah, no such luck. What do you want with me, idiot? "

Great, the bastard had started imitating him now.

"I'm not doing it."

"Not doing what? The locomotion?"

Black somehow managed to look genuinely confused.

"You know what I'm talking about."

Blank look, check, mouth slightly agape, check, vague drooling, check. Idiot. Maybe he should call St. Mungo's to report a suspected case of cretinism.

"The thing, you know, your so-called plan, the one that involves me pretty much openly declaring I don't actually want to study at Hogwarts and would rather take up selling stuffed squirrels for a living!"

Aaand, yes, time for yet another stunned silence. Lovely.

"You do realise that means war, right? I can do much worse than just talk to you, you know." Black looked serious now. Dreadfully so. No pun intended. Severus swallowed hard.

"Doesn't matter. I'll survive. I hate squirrels more than I hate you."

"What the bloody hell has gotten into you?"

Back to the bloody bits, good.

"What has gotten into me, basically, is the realisation that, were you to get caught, sorry, when you get caught, you won't be the only one in trouble. Wilkes will be, too, and, more importantly, so will I."

"Hang on," Black asked with a slight frown, "if you're not going to do it, why the hell did you bother trying to get Wilkes to put his name on the list?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I should've explained myself better. I am not going to be involved in the least in this hare-brained scheme of yours. But I have no qualms against seeing you be expelled. Or Wilkes, for that matter. I hate the bastard, anyway. Looks too intelligent."

"Sevvy, darling, I can't believe I'm saying this, but for once, I completely agree with you. On the Wilkes bit, I mean" Black quickly added before Severus had a chance to interject with a sarcastic comment. "Now, why would you think you could get caught doing this? It's not like you're going to try and brew it in the middle of the Great Hall - I'm sure that's what you wanted to do, but I'm simply not going to let you. Yes, just because I'm nice and my mother taught me to be kind and always look after lesser creatures."

Despite himself, Severus felt a smile forming on his lips, rather than the curse he was going to use to blast the cocky bastard into smithereens.

"Did she, did she now?"

"Er... well, actually it was more along the lines of a 'kill them and then prance around on their dead bodies speaking in a very posh accent' sort of thing" Black conceded.

Severus gave him an amused look. Black returned it. Something was off. The last few seconds had been completely wasted: they had not spent them being nasty to each other in the slightest. What the hell was going on?

Fortunately, Black, probably pining for normalcy himself, quickly went back to the point.

"Listen, it's very easy, we'll find a secret room, somewhere nobody ever goes - or preferably even knows about - and you'll brew it there. No one will ever be the wiser."

"Yes, well, you'll forgive me if I'm not overenthusiastic about this suggestion of yours, seeing how the day I trust you to tell the difference between "storage" and "secret" is the day I have my head eaten by the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Also - " Severus quickly added before Black had a chance to interject " - that's hardly the problem. You will get caught, and people are going to want to know where you got the Polyjuice, since no one will be insane enough to assume you would ever be able to brew it yourself."

"Yes, and if that happens, I'll simply tell them I bought it from Diagon Alley or something."

"Right. Here comes that Snorkack again. He seems to be very intent on eating my head today, don't you think?"

"Can't imagine why. Eww" Black added after a slight pause. "Look, there's no reason why they should suspect you. They know you're good in potions, but they'll never suspect a first year would be capable of brewing Polyjuice! And I don't think we'll have to go too much out of our way to make it quite clear to everyone that you would be the last person that I'd ask for help and that you'd rather help the Giant Squid turn into a strikingly handsome merman than give me the time of day! It's perfect!"

Black seemed completely taken with the perfectness of this scheme. Severus wondered if there was any possibility of arranging a brain transplant for him.

"The reason they'll suspect me, Black, is that you will point them in that particular direction."

"Why would I do that?" Back asked, with an honest look of confusion.

"Because you'll already be well on your way to squirrel stuffing village, and you hate me enough to want to take me along for the ride."

Black was speechless. All trace of humour seemed to have gone from his eyes.

"I would never do that" he said quietly.

"Yes, well, you'll forgive me if I don't take your word for it."

"Listen, no matter what you think of me, I'm not a traitor. I am acquainted with the concept of honour, you know."

Severus was quiet for a second. Why on earth was he talking like a Gryffindor?

He considered Black's words for a few moments.

"I'd rather have that in writing" he finally said. After all, Black seemed to mean it, and with a few extra precautions, Severus could avoid any and all unpleasantness from this - and ideally never talk to him again. Also, he had to admit to himself, he was a bit curious to see if he was good enough to indeed brew a Polyjuice potion.

"On a cursed piece of parchment, I assume? Lovely. Are you sure you don't want me to make an Unbreakable Vow over this?"

"Nah, watching you die wouldn't be nearly as entertaining as watching you try to walk around Hogwarts with a massive, pink, polka dotted tail."

"Oh, jolly. Looking forward to it."

"Oh, and Black? You are in fact about to drink the result of my handiwork. So unless you're particularly fond of the special "poison flavour" I offer on all my potions, I suggest you refrain from calling me "Sevvy darling" ever again."

"Duly noted, love. Duly noted."

Dear Reggie,

Great things are afoot. My Plan shall strike fear and amazement in the hearts of my fellow Hogwarts students. Well, if all goes well, it won't necessarily be me they'll be afraid and in awe of, but that's irrelevant right now. By a lethal mix of my renowned cunning and mesmerising charm, I have already succeeded in acquiring two underlings to do my bidding.

However, my scheme to take over Hogwarts would be incomplete without the assistance of my ever so loyal little brother, whose devoted assistance and keen dexterity have proved indispensible to me time and time again in our exploits over the years. As such, I call on him once again, hoping his nobility of heart and agility of hand will not fail me, just as they never have. Except for that one time with uncle Cygnus and the wig, but that was purely circumstantial.

On this particular occasion, I am placing all my faith in your ability to procure me some shredded Boomslang skin and some powdered Bicorn horn from Father's personal supply cabinet. While am reasonably sure he shall not notice their disappearance, you should be aware that this is a very dangerous mission, as the consequences, should you be caught in the act, will be quite severe. However, I place my full trust in your abilities and am eagerly awaiting your response and the thrilling tale of your courage.

How's Mother? Hope she's not giving you too much hell.

Love,

Sirius

_Autor's Note: Ah, yes. The delay. I'm sorry about that. The chapter didn't seem to flow properly, then I had exams, then the chapter still didn't flow properly, then I had some more exams, and now I still don't think the chapter flows properly, but at least I don't have any more exams, so after editing it for what seems like the billionth time, I finally decided to post it. As usual, any manner of constructive criticism will be appreciated and met with a small celebratory ritual of my own devising. _


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